Emma's Wish Read online

  Prologue

  Texas, 1880

  "Please don't send us away, Pa." Six-year-old Nathan tugged on the rolled up sleeve of his father's shirt. "We'll be good. We promise. Don't we, Joseph?"

  Beside him, his older brother nodded vigorously, then scrubbed at his tear-stained eyes with his grimy knuckles.

  Studying the two boys, Becky's head bobbed in agreement, setting her pale blonde curls bouncing. She was too young to understand the significance of what Sam had just told them, but whatever her brothers did, Becky followed suit, as much as any three-year-old could.

  Sam Jenkins raked his fingers through his hair. God, if there was any other way ... But there wasn't. It was the right thing to do. He'd done his best to look after the children and the ranch, if it could be called that - but it wasn't good enough. He was failing at both, and now he had to muster up the courage to do what was best for them, no matter how painful it was. Seeing the children lined up in front of him, looking at him as if he was some kind of monster, just about tore his heart out.

  Leaning over, he picked Becky up and settled her on his lap. Her pudgy arms reached up around his neck, and she planted a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

  Swallowing painfully against the grief choking him, he took Nathan's small hand. His gaze rested on the calluses on the little boy's palm. Dammit, his hands shouldn't already show signs of hard labor. Youngsters shouldn't have to work that hard.

  This was exactly why he'd made the decision, the decision the children hated him for right now. But they'd thank him later. He had to believe that.

  He was doing this for their own good. Sam had to remind himself of that every single day. By sending them back east to live with his wife's parents, he was giving them the life they deserved, a life of privilege and wealth. But even though his reasons made sense, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was making a huge mistake.

  "It's just for a little while." He tried to sound convincing, but the promise rang false even to his own ears. "Right now, I need to work too hard--"

  "We can help," Joseph volunteered. "I'm almost a man. You said so yourself when Ma died."

  When Ma died. That said it all. Their lives had fallen apart when Catherine died six months before. The children had lost their mother, and he'd lost the only woman he'd ever loved.

  "I did say that, didn't I?" he asked, ruffling the boy's hair. "And I meant it, too."

  Catherine had always called Joseph her little man, and a melancholy smile twitched at Sam's lips at the recollection. He'd called him that, too, as Joseph had stood beside him at the cemetery when they laid Catherine to rest. Joseph had stood in the rain, his head held high, determined not to cry even though his eyes brimmed with tears and his chin quivered throughout the short service.

  "I can work--" Joseph put in.

  "Me too--"

  "Me work--" Becky smiled up at him, the dimples in her cheeks and the clear blue gaze in her eyes bringing back the image of Catherine's angelic face.

  God, couldn't they see how badly he wanted to keep them with him? They were all he had left, and sending them away was slowly killing him. But they had no way of knowing that. They only knew they were being sent to live with people they'd never met, in a place they'd never seen.

  "Joseph," he said, trying to make his tone as stern as possible. "I can't keep you here right now. Your grandparents are looking forward to seeing you. So I need you to be a man now and promise me you'll take care of the younger ones. That's the way it has to be."

  Joseph sniffled. His voice cracked when he replied. "Yes, Pa."

  "Nathan?"

  Nathan wiped his face again, and hiccuped. "Yes, Pa?"

  "I want you to listen to Joseph. You do what you're told and stay out of trouble." Like asking the seasons not to change, he thought wryly.

  "Yes, Pa."

  "Now you two go and finish your chores while I fix us supper."

  Both boys hesitated for a moment, then turned and shuffled out.

  Sam watched the boys cross the yard and disappear into the barn. Feeling something tugging on his sleeve, he turned his attention to the little girl in his lap.

  "What am I going to do without you?" Sam nuzzled Becky's neck until she giggled, that sweet sound he'd have to remember during the lonely nights to come. How he'd miss her dimples, and the way she'd look up at him with her head cocked to one side and that same quizzical expression Catherine used to give him when she was confused about something.

  Best not to dwell on what can't be helped. Getting to his feet, he settled Becky back on the chair.

  He had to send the children to Boston. He had no choice.

  Night after night, he'd lain awake trying to find a way, some way to keep his family together. When Catherine first died, the neighbors had flocked to the house with food and offers of help with the children. Gradually, the visits had lessened. Now, he was left alone to try to keep the ranch going and care for the children by himself.

  Sure, his closest neighbor, Fred Holloway, still came by with his wife, Lou, from time to time. But Fred had his own place to worry about. With planting season upon them, he didn't have time to help Sam out, and Lou was too busy cooking for their own hands to help Sam with the children.

  Getting up, Sam picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the pot of beef stew on the stove. It seemed they ate stew almost every night since Catherine died, partly because it was one of the few things he knew how to make, but mainly because it was easy and he could leave it simmering, giving him more time to work the ranch rather than preparing meals. If only he had the money to hire a few hands ...

  But he didn't. He'd sunk every cent he could scrounge together into building his herd. There was nothing left over.

  He'd exhausted all the possibilities until finally, he'd given in and written to Catherine's parents, asking them to take the children. Until he got back on his feet, he'd said.

  And he meant to get back on his feet, too. He just didn't know how long that might take.

  "Papa!" Becky's voice filtered through his thoughts. "Look!"

  Following the direction of Becky’s outstretched arm, Sam noticed the stew bubbling over the side of the pot. "Damn!" he cried, grabbing a towel and lifting the heavy iron kettle away from the heat.

  "Papa said a bad word," Becky told Nathan, who had just opened the door and trudged into the kitchen carrying a pail of water.

  Nathan scowled. "Ma doesn't like you cussing."

  Sam gave Nathan a soft smile. Even after all these months, Nathan still talked about his mother as if she was still alive and had just stepped into the other room for a few minutes. Sam didn't have the heart to remind him again that she was gone. Permanently. It didn't matter any more how much he cursed. Catherine couldn't scold him now.

  "Where's your brother?" Sam asked.

  "Feeding Lulu and Samson. He won't be but a minute."

  Asinine names for horses, Sam thought, but he kept quiet. He'd let the boys name them, and he would have to live with it.

  Sam nodded. "Good. Then go wash up and sit down before supper gets cold."

  A few minutes later, Sam and the children sat down to their meal. Only the crackling of the logs in the fireplace and the rustle of the wind through the trees outside broke the silence.

  Sam tried to coax Joseph into a conversation, but he merely responded with one word answers to Sam's questions. Nathan moved his food around on his plate with his fork, but Sam noticed none of it actually made its way into his mouth. Becky ate her supper in silence, her accusing gaze resting on Sam's face. Her expression was enough to make Sam want to cry.

  Finally the meal was over, and the table cleared. Sam reached up and set the last plate on the shelf. "You'd best get off to bed now," he said to the children. "We h
ave to go into town tomorrow and buy the train tickets for your trip to Boston."

  Nathan and Becky looked at Joseph, as if electing him the spokesperson. Joseph took one step forward and cleared his throat. "Pa?"

  "What is it?"

  "Uh ... when ... do we have to go?"

  "Next week."

  "What day?"

  "Monday. Why?"

  Joseph shrugged. "No reason. Just wondered."

  "How many days is that?" Nathan asked.

  "Four," Joseph answered. "Come on."

  Taking Nathan by one hand, and Becky by the other, Joseph led the two children up the stairs to the bedrooms, leaving Sam alone, staring into the flames licking at the logs in the stone fireplace.

  Four days.

  Four days until he lost the only worthwhile part of his life.

  Chapter 1

  Emma Witherspoon lifted the last apple pie from the oven and set it on the window ledge to cool. It was silly to bake so much when she lived alone, but it kept her busy, busy enough to make her forget her loneliness, at least for a few hours at a time.

  Besides, other families appreciated her generosity when she shared the results of her baking sprees - her neighbour, Amanda, for one. Amanda hadn't been able to bake for at least three months, ever since she learned she was expecting a child and had been ordered to bed by her doctor. And Amanda's husband, James, had always raved about Emma's pies. The other two pies - well, she would donate them to the church for their weekly raffle.

  Fatigue washed over her. It had been a long day, a lonely day, and there was no reason to stay up, except that sleep was always so elusive. Yet she had to try. Taking the lamp, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom and stripped off her clothes. The cool air against her skin after the heat of the day was such a relief, and for a moment, she wished that for just one day, she didn't have to tie herself into corsets and stays beneath her dresses.

  The branches of a live oak scraping against the window drew Emma's attention. I really need to have someone trim those branches. She sighed. One more thing I have to deal with alone. Her throat tightened against a sob rising in her chest. In the weeks since her father's death, she’d had to handle many household crises she'd never expected - mice that had taken up residence in the root cellar, a broken window, and the shutter that had blown off its hinges during a severe storm. Not to mention the daily chores necessary to keep a large house.

  But she'd survived.

  Alone.

  Emma felt her lips curve in a smile. Yes, she'd managed. She didn't need a man. Which was a good thing, since no man would want her. She would be alone for the rest of her life, and the sooner she accepted it, the better.

  Refusing to dwell on her future, she slipped into a cotton nightdress and peered out the window. A pale moon hung in the sky, and a strong breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle through the air. Emma breathed deeply before she closed the window and went back downstairs to check on the pies.

  She stopped short when she reached the kitchen. One of the pies was missing! How could that be? It was late, and the only creatures out and about at this time of night were raccoons and skunks. Had a raccoon stolen one?

  Picking up the lamp and the rifle leaning against the wall in the corner of the kitchen, she gingerly opened the back door and stepped outside onto the back porch. Surely if a raccoon was the culprit, there would be some evidence. Yet she could see nothing - no empty pie pan, no crumbs, nothing.

  A sudden loud bang made her jump, and a tiny squeak escaped her lips. Turning towards the sound, she noticed that the door to the wooden shed in the back corner of her yard was ajar, swaying back and forth as the wind caught it. The noise she'd heard was the door banging against the wall. Strange, she thought. She was positive she'd bolted it earlier when she'd finished hoeing the vegetable garden.

  A gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes, and a fat droplet of rain landed on her nose. A jagged shaft of lightning streaked through the sky, followed a few moments later by a low rumbling of thunder in the distance.

  Within seconds, the rain began to teem down. Soaked, Emma scurried across the yard. Rain lashed against her nightdress, pasting it to her skin. She shivered.

  A muffled sound reached her ears. It seemed to be coming from inside the shed. Was the wind playing tricks on her? It had almost sounded like a sob. Ridiculous, she thought. Her imagination was just running wild.

  Then she heard it again, and another sound, much deeper. Something was definitely inside the shed.

  She began to tremble, but whether it was from the icy rain or fear, she couldn't say. Her heart thundered against her ribs.

  With trembling hands, she tucked the butt of the rifle under her arm and aimed the barrel at the open door, praying that she could pull the trigger if it became necessary.

  Carefully, she opened the shed door to allow the lantern light to illuminate the darkness. Her mouth was dry, and she could feel her heartbeat hammering in her throat as she took a small step inside. Silence. Slowly, she scanned the shadows, waiting.

  Silence.

  Silly, she chided herself. Just as she'd thought. Imagination.

  Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she relaxed, easing the barrel of the rifle down until it hung by her side.

  Turning to leave, a whimper stopped her in her tracks. The blood drained from her face when she saw two dark eyes staring out at her from behind an empty crate.

  ***

  A tiny voice from the darkness cried out. "Don't shoot!"

  What the devil--?

  "Please don't kill us," the voice begged.

  A child's voice.

  "Who's there?" she called out.

  As Emma stood with her mouth agape, three children crawled out from behind a wooden crate. Emma was flabbergasted. What in heaven's name were three young children doing out at this time of night, hiding in a stranger's shed? They should be home in bed.

  "You gonna shoot us?" the middle one, a boy, asked. "If'n you are, I'm not scared."

  Emma felt her lips curl in a smile, but she realized the boy was perfectly serious.

  "I'm sure you wouldn't be," she replied, noticing the slight quiver in the boy's voice. "But I'm not going to kill you."

  "See, I told ya," the largest of the three said.

  "Who are you?" Emma asked.

  The oldest boy made the introductions.

  "Well, Joseph," Emma said sternly, "what are you doing hiding here?"

  "We was ... we got tired, so we stopped for a spell--"

  "Where are you going?"

  The boys gazed conspiratorially at each other, then took the youngest, a girl, between them, each of them with an arm about her shoulders. "It don't matter. We'll be moving on now. We didn't mean no harm, ma'am. And we didn't touch nothing."

  "Oh?" Emma asked, her gaze sliding to the middle child.. She'd noticed a few crumbs of what could only be her apple pie crust on his face.

  The boy’s head dipped and he kicked his foot in the dirt. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "We was hungry after all that walkin'--"

  "Let's go," Joseph said, making a move to go past her.

  "You children are not going anywhere tonight," Emma said.

  "We have to--"

  "Do I have to hold you at gunpoint?" She tried to ask the question as sweetly as she could. She didn't want to frighten them, but she needed them to realize she meant what she was saying. "Because I will if necessary."

  Panic crept into the children's eyes, and Emma noticed Joseph's face pale. "Uh--"

  "Not another word. Come with me."

  Emma stepped outside and waited, ignoring the wind whipping through the trees and the rain slicing through her thin nightdress.

  "Now!"

  As if they were being led to their execution, the three children filed out, Becky first, then Nathan, and Joseph last, carrying a feed sack. Those must be their supplies for their journey, Emma surmised, trying to prevent the smile she felt from showing on her face. By the size
of the sack, they wouldn't get far.

  The children stood in the rain, waiting until she'd bolted the shed door, then followed her across the yard to the house.

  When they were inside, Emma instructed them to remove their coats and boots while she went to fetch blankets to wrap around them. Nathan's lips were blue from the cold, and Becky couldn't seem to stop shivering.

  "Joseph, you're the oldest, right?" Emma sensed that if she could get through to him, the other two would follow.

  He nodded.

  "Do you have dry clothes in the sack?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Find something for Becky to wear, and while I take her upstairs and help her, you boys put on something dry."

  Instinctively, Joseph took Becky's hand and drew her close to him.

  "We gotta go--" Nathan interrupted. "Don't we, Joseph?"

  "Joseph," Emma insisted. If she could get through to him now ... "Becky needs to be warm. She's going to get sick if she doesn't get warm."

  Emma could see the indecision on the boy's face, and her heart went out to him. For whatever reason, these three children felt they had to run away, yet his obvious affection for his sister gave him reason to hesitate.

  "Where are you taking her?"

  "I'm going to dry her and change her clothes."

  "She won't go with you. I'll take care of her."

  "Fine." Emma smiled. "I want your word you won't leave until I come back."

  He eyed her hesitantly, then looked at his brother and sister for their approval. Nathan barely nodded his head, and Becky just grinned up at him as another shiver overtook her.. "Okay. I promise. But then we have to go."

  When Emma returned a few minutes later, the children were sitting at the table. For the first time, she took a good look at them. Both boys had the same coffee-colored hair and hazel eyes, but Joseph had a spattering of freckles across his nose. Nathan's skin was clear, and when he spoke to Joseph, Emma noticed a hole where a front tooth was missing. Becky was the image of a baby doll Emma had had as a child, and she could almost feel the little girl wrap her fingers around her heart.